My Sunshine, Your Snowflake
by ShadowSilverWolves
Summary: Alaska tags along with America for the World Meeting, except he was not supposed to be there. And are Russia and America actually getting along? Once again, the meeting goes haywire because of one of Alfred's kids. Prepare for a cuteness overload. (Summary does NOT suck.)
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Hetalia.**

00000

It was a faint noise that buzzed in the back of his mind, but he tried to ignore it. After all, he was sleeping quite comfortably right now. Nuzzling his nose farther into his Captain America pillow, the blonde took a deep breath a tried to slip back into the sweet abyss of sleep. But whatever the foreign sound was seemed persistent. Persistent enough to keep him from resting any longer. He saw no reason to get up, though. There was nothing he was supposed to be doing today. Was there?

The noise repeated itself and America lifted his face out of the red, white, and blue pillow, opening his eyes and letting golden sun rays that fell from the window above him pierce his crystal blue orbs, causing him to squint at the sudden brightness. He blinked rapidly to get his eyes comfortable with the amount of light they were being subjected to. The sound came from behind him somewhere and again he tried to figure out who or what was trying to wake him.

America yawned loudly, stretching his arms out above him. He then rolled over onto his back and gazed up at the ceiling of his bedroom. The wooden beams above him each held some kind of light fixture that lit the room during the evening hours. Two ceiling fans were looking back at him, their blades spinning softly to keep the air in the room moving.

_What time is it? _he wondered, glancing at his clock that sat on his dresser beside a picture of him and Canada. The glowing red numbers told him it was nearly eight o' clock and he collapsed back onto the bed, wrapping himself in his blankets once more. Nope, he was not getting up. Not yet, at least. And nothing could make him. He smiled at this and proceeded to go back to sleep.

"Time to get up, Dad."

The voice, which had been unknowingly preceded by a barrage of footsteps that became progressively louder the closer they came to the door, was that of his oldest son as the boy burst into the room, slamming the wooden door against the wall as he threw it open. Virginia looked significantly annoyed, if the spark of irritation in his honey brown eyes behind black under-framed spectacles testified to anything. His calm tone meant nothing. The boy marched across the room to the large bed and kicked at the mattress.

The bed shook under the force of the kick, but America made no move to wake up. He only squeezed his blankets tighter and scrunched his eyes closed, intent on ignoring the boy at the bedside.

"If you don't get up in the next five seconds, so help me, I will flip this bed," Virginia threatened in a even tone when he saw that America was not moving.

America groaned a bit and rolled over onto his side, facing away from his son. "Sure you will, Ginny. Why don't you go eat your breakfast, hmm?"

Virginia let out a sigh and stood up straight, running a hand through his coal-black hair to brush it back in place. He adjusted his glasses and stepped closer to the bed, leaning over so that he was hovering over his father. He cleared his throat to signify that he was about to say something of importance.

"How about this? If you don't get up in the next five minutes you will miss your flight to Spain, the location of the next World Meeting."

Virginia straightened up and walked away slowly, brushing his clothes off as he went. He stopped at the open doorway and turned around to face the bed again where America lay still. Lifting his hand, Virginia began counting down from five. Four... Three... Two... One...

_"The World Meeting?" _America shouted, jumping ten feet into the air and missed the bed completely, landing with a pain-filled yelp on the hardwood floor. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he accused from where he lay on the ground.

Virginia only shrugged and stepped out of the room with a sly smile. "And miss this wonderful scene?"

And with that, he shut the door.

"You are not too old for me to ground, young man!"

00000

The box was huge. Okay, it was not that huge, but to a personified state who had the body of a six year-old, the box looked enormous. In truth, it was not a box at all. It was a suitcase. A very large one. An empty one. Ocean blue eyes stared up at the 'box' with interest. It looked climbable. He liked things that were climbable.

"Aleks!"

The boy turned around at the sound of his name. His sister was still looking for him. They were supposed to be playing hide and seek. Calli was horrid at finding him. He always won. But he played hide and seek differently than most people anyway. When an hour was up and they had not found him, he would become the seeker. He would sneak up on whoever was looking for him and scare them half to death. He never meant to, it just ended up happening. He couldn't help it if he could sneak up on people very easily. It was a gift he was born with. Several of his siblings said he acted a lot like his first father, Russia. He did not know if that was true, since he didn't really see him that often. What he knew of him was that he was... eccentric. And that being too much like him was not a good thing. But he had enough American in him to put those fears aside.

"Aleks!" California was still looking for him.

One glance at the box told him all he needed to know. His new hiding place. He turned and faced his friend, a red and white Alaskan Malamute puppy who followed his master around loyally. Instead of a collar, the dog wore a light pink bandana around its neck. The color of choice for the dog's necktie caused some confusion among those who came in contact with it, for it was a he. Aleks became very angry when someone called Qanik a she.

"Come, Qanik," he said, and with a simple smile and a tug on his scarf, the ash blonde boy climbed into the box. The dog silently complied and Alaska carefully closed the lid. The box was just the right size for the boy and his pet. Alaska giggled and held his finger up to his lips to signal for silence. Qanik licked the boy's face in response. Wiping the dog dribble off of his cheek, Alaska fixed his pale cowlick and settled down for a long, cozy wait. He couldn't wait to scare Calli.

00000

"Are you sure you have everything?" Virginia asked the man sitting before him. America was tugging on his boots, several bags piled beside him. America glanced up at his son.

"Yes, Ginny, I have everything," he said.

Annoyance sparked in the boy's eyes. "Please refrain from calling me that."

America laughed, standing to his feet and ruffling the boy's dark hair.

"And that, too, please."

While Virginia tried to fix his hair, another state came running up, tugging on the hem of America's bomber jacket. The copper-colored ponytail and amber eyes identified her as the twelfth state, North Carolina.

"Dad? You forgot your video games!" she told him.

"Oh, yeah!" America snapped his fingers, happy that his daughter had reminded him. "But I'd don't think I actually packed them..."

"No time," Virginia stated, tapping the face of his watch. "You are already late."

"I got it!" Texas said, winking and running off down the hall to the games room. Upon reaching it, he threw open the door to see piles of video games scattered all over the floor. In the middle of the pile was a closed suitcase. "Well, looks like Dad forgot to pack 'em up." He leaned down to grab the case and was surprised to realize that it felt heavy. "Hmm, maybe he just didn't pack 'em all. Well, whatever." Texas adjusted his cowboy hat and lifted the suitcase up as though it was as light as a feather.

Back at the front door, Virginia was tapping his foot impatiently and nervously glancing at his watch. "Come on, Tex," he mumbled.

Just as the words left his mouth, Texas came running down the hall, swinging the suitcase. "Here ya go, Dad!" he called, tossing it through the air.

America caught it and pushed open the front door. "Thanks, buddy! See you, guys!" he said to the states clustered in the foyer.

"Goodbye, Dad!"

"Have fun!"

"Go get 'em!"

"Say hi to Italy and Seychelles for me!"

"Please do not get into any trouble."

America climbed into his truck, flinging his bags into the backseat. He waved to his kids before starting up the truck and pulling out of the driveway, leaving a trail of dust down the path that led to the Washington DC Manor of America.

The children continued waving until the vehicle was out of sight. Then Virginia shut the door and looked back at his siblings. "Don't you all have work to do?" he asked.

The group split up and went off in their different directions. When they were gone, Virginia peeked out of the front window, sighing as he wondered what America's boss was going to have to clean up when the nation returned from the World Meeting.

"Hey, Ginny?"

"Hmm?" Virginia decided to ignore the dreaded nickname that he knew he would never escape from. He turned away from the window to see California standing behind him, chewing on a finger as she absent mindedly glanced around. The older state waited for his sister to talk, but she had gone off into one of her dazed moments.

"Calli?"

"Huh, yeah?" She seemed startled by his voice.

"What did you want to ask me?"

California gave the boy a completely blank look. She stood there for another few moments before seeming to get a sudden thought.

"Oh, yeah! Have you seen Alaska?"

Virginia eyed her carefully. "No. You were supposed to be watching him." His voice held a note of irritation.

California backed up, knowing well how her overprotective older brother could get when it came to the younger states. And Alaska was the 49th state, the second youngest.

"Well," she said nervously, "we were playing hide and seek and I sorta lost him. I can't even follow his scent. You know he always smells strongly of fish."

Virginia rolled his eyes and began walking down the hall, farther into the house. "He does not smell like fish. You are just weird and your head tells you he smells like fish."

California fell into step behind him. "I still can't find him."

"If your head wasn't constantly up in the clouds and you weren't such a ditz this wouldn't happen!" Virginia fussed at the blonde in a voice he did not often use. As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he regretted it. Calli dropped her head and shuffled her feet, ashamed by her brother's accusations that she unfortunately knew were true.

"Yeah, I know." she mumbled.

"Uh..." Virginia stopped and placed a hand on the girl's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Calli. I was annoyed. Alaska can hide from anyone. It wasn't really your fault."

California smiled up at the boy. "Thanks, Samuel!" she said.

"No problem. Now let's go find Aleks."

00000

Several of the states had pulled together to form a search party. They stood in the living room, all trying to find a way to figure out where the missing state was located. However, they were all trying to figure it out at the same time. Yep, you guessed it. It was loud. Until a gunshot cut through the racket and silenced everyone.

_"Oh, hush up, all o' ya!"_

Texas stood in the doorway, a smoking revolver in his hand. All eyes turned to him.

"Now, listen up! The last time I saw the little runt, he was in the video game room! So we should start looking—"

"Did you say the video game room?" Carolina interrupted.

"Yeah, why?"

There was silence in the room as everything sunk in. Hide and seek. Alaska. Video game room. Suitcase. Hiding spot.

Virginia tapped Texas on the shoulder, causing the boy to jump. "Texas, did you actually check to see what was in that suitcase you gave Dad?" he asked in a sickeningly sweet voice.

Texas gulped and tapped his chin in pretend thought. "Umm, no?" He gave his brother a sheepish grin.

Virginia facepalmed in a very un-Virginia like way.

00000

**Author's Note**

**Well, Alaska won with four votes! Here is the first installment! Prepare for extreme cuteness, adorable psychos, protective fathers and jealous Russians! This is going to be good! Are you all ready for this? Of course you are! Here we go! Qanik is an Alaskan name that means snowflake. Read and review for little Alaska!**

**Remember, you were unique before it was cool!**

**Until next time,**

**-Silver**


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own Hetalia.**

00000

Alaska was not certain how long he and Qanix had been hidden inside the box. In fact, he thought he had fallen asleep at some point, which threw off his sense of time even more so. He could feel a bruise on his elbow where the appendage had been jogged against the side of the suitcase repeatedly. That could only mean that the box had been moved. Rubbing his eyes, little Alaska looked over at his loyal friend, whom he could barely make out in the darkness. The dog was silent as usual. It did not bark very often, which was rare for a dog, but Alaska did not mind this at all. He made for a great hiding buddy. Reaching out a hand to give Qanix a reassuring pat, the boy was rewarded for his kindness with a lick to the cheek. Alaska giggled quietly before holding a hand up to his lips in a signal of silence.

It was time to find out where he had ended up since he first climbed into this box. The zipper had not been closed completely, so he stuck his small finger into the small opening that was left and slid his finger along the zipper line to open the case. Soon, he flipped the top open and he and Qanix were subjected to fresh air...

...and a room that was definitely not in America. Glancing around, the little platinum blonde tried to decipher how he had known that he was not in America. The style of the house was a Spanish design, he could tell that much. But there were many houses like that in America. How had he known?

Alaska was too young to understand that a state such as him can always tell when he is home and when he is not. Since he did not know this, he let himself believe that it was a gut feeling, or something. Just one of those things that came naturally to Americans, along with a love of guns, the inability to go without hamburgers for very long, and an admiration for Japanese culture. Seriously, Americans loved their anime.

Focusing back to the task at hand, Alaska climbed out of the box and onto the floor, examining the room around him for some kind of clue as to where he was. When he looked up at the bed that sat in the middle of the room, he saw that it was unmade and a few pillows had fallen on the ground. Placing a hand to his chin (and looking incredibly adorable while doing so, though he was unaware of it), the little boy deciphered that whoever had slept in this bed had left in a hurry.

Walking over to the large four poster bed, he attempted to climb up onto the mattress to see if he could find anything, but he found himself too short to do so. He made a few unsuccessful tries until he felt a nose suddenly nudge his bottom. Then he was being pushed upwards by Qanix and soon found himself on the bed. On his hands and knees, he turned around and motioned for the dog to jump up after him, which it did willingly and quite easily.

Now that both the boy and his pet were up on the bed, Alaska began examining it in hopes of turning up some clue as to who had slept here. Fortunately for him, it did not take long until he found a familiar pair of pajama pants that were covered in the yellow and black Batman symbol. With a sigh, Alaska realized whose bed this was. America's.

But that still did not explain where he was. Which left only one thing today. Alaska and Qanix looked at the door at the far end of the room.

"Are you thinking what I am thinking?" he asked the dog. Qanix's only response was a pant and a nudge to the boy's side. "Oh, good! Come on!"

Boy and dog made their way to the door which would ultimately lead them to the outside world which would in turn show them where they were. After some difficulty with getting the door open, which took a bit of gymnastics to make possible, Alaska and Qanix entered the hallway. There were doors lining the elaborately decorated hall, and Alaska assumed he was in a hotel of sorts.

Walking across the hallway, he tried the handle of the door directly across from the one he had come out of, only to find in locked. He shrugged and climbed off of his pet step ladder and began making his way further down the corridor, trying each door as he went. He was getting annoyed at finding no open doors, and pulled the hood of his coat over his head and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. He made a pouty face by filling his cheeks up with air and holding them there, burrowing his eyebrows and narrowing his ocean blue orbs. He was not making progress and he did not like it when he couldn't make progress.

Finally, after five more locked doors, Alaska came across an open one and happily walked into the room. Papers were scattered everywhere, but what caught the boy's attention was not the messy room, but the large open briefcase that sat on the bed. It just screamed "Hide in me!" to the boy and his dog.

His strange need to close himself in a small space and then jump out at random people drove him to climbing up on the bed and and crawling inside the case with his faithful companion not far behind.

00000

Spain was a bundle of fireworks today, but no one could pin point exactly why. It was usual for the man to be quite talkative, but he seemed extra excitable at the moment, rivaling even Italy's attitude, which scared a lot of people in the room.

The room they were in was the World Meeting building in Madrid, Spain, where they were all seated around a large oval-shaped table, they being all of the nations around the world. At the head of the table, Spain was talking animatedly about...

...well, that is where the problem came in. He was talking so fast, nobody could understand a word the guy was saying. No one commented on this fact and simply proceeded to doing one of two things: pretending to understand and nodding where they prayed to God nodding was necessary, or totally ignoring him. I'm sure you can guess that a large percentage of the countries in the room had gone with the latter option. It wasn't like anyone really paid attention at these things anyway.

Spain did not even notice that nobody was listening to him as he explained his points, whatever they were, which they were probably very good points, as long as they were not, you know, bad points, because if they were bad points, well then, they were just bad. Thus was the mindset of the few nations who were trying their hardest to understand what the Spaniard stuck on high speed was saying. These few dedicated nations were considering joining the argument that had started amongst the countries who were ignoring Spain, since at least that was easy to understand.

"Whoa, dude, we are not gonna pull up history under the bridge, or whatever! The Cold War is behind us! Let it go!"

"Alfred, I swear. If you start singing what I think you're going to sing, I will murder you. Flat out murder you! I cannot stand that bloody song!"

"Honhonhonhon, mon ami! I could sing you a few songs of my country to soothe you, hmm~?"

"Italy, do not draw pasta on my papers!"

"Ve~ Can I draw on Germany's biceps?"

"No! Stay away from my brother, you potato–!"

" Kesesesesese! The awesome me forbids you from insulting my brother! Only I can do that."

"Who took my frying pan? Give it back, Prussia!"

"I totes look, like, amazing in thses boots, ya know?"

Switzerland gave a sigh. On second thoughts, listening to hyperactive Spain would be a lot less of a head ache. He was content on doing just that when the briefcase sitting on the table behind Spain started moving. Was he the only one who saw that? Switzerland shook his head and decided he was seeing things.

Until the case moved again.

"Big Brother, did you see that?" Lichtenstein asked, tugging on his sleeve.

Before he could answer, the briefcase gave another jerk and scooted closer to the edge of the table. That time, Italy saw it move and promptly let out a squeal that should have cracked the windows, or at least the glasses of water on the table before them, and latched himself onto Germany's arm.

"It moved! Germany, it moved! The case moved on it's own! It's a monster! We're all gonna die!"

"No one is going to die, now let go of me," the German insisted, although he eyed the case carefully.

Since the Italian's scream had successfully brought the moving briefcase to everyone's attention, the room went quiet. Even Spain, who realized that no one was listening, turned to glance at the offending article and jump back when it shifted on the table top once more.

"Umm, dude, someone should totally check that out," America insisted, not moving an inch from where he had attached himself to the closest person, which happened to be Romano.

"Let go, you idiot!"

When no one in the room took the initiative to check out the box, England stood to his feet.

"Fine! I'll do it, you cowardly twats!" he announced, making his way over to the briefcase on the table.

"Be careful, England-san."

England took slow careful steps toward the briefcase, the tension in the room growing with each echoing step, until he stood directly in front of it. All eyes were on him as he stood still before it, watching and waiting. It shifted once more and England took a step back, before clearing his throat and moving closer to the table. With a deep breath, he reached out and gave the case a tap.

Not two seconds later the case popped open and England caught a quick glimpse of a small boy with pale hair and a wild grin, and he let out a very manly high pitched squeal that would have caused many people to later ask him for his man card.

His shriek of terror spread throughout the room and Italy buried his face in Germany's shoulder and sobbed, America wrapped both his arms and legs around a protesting Romano and let out a howl, Lichtenstein squeaked and hid behind her brother, Japan gripped his katana, Russia smiled his creepy smile and began his little disturbing chant, Spain just screamed, and France faked a faint.

However, the sudden movement from whoever was inside the box was too close to the edge of the table and the briefcase fell, landing on the floor with a thud.

Silence reigned in the room as everyone stared down at the briefcase that lay upside down on the floor. No one said a word, wondering what would crawl out from beneath th case and if it could be disposed of with a sword or firearm.

Then it came. The heart wrenching cry of a small child. Though slightly muffled by what sat on top of him, the sound was distinct, soft, and painful to hear.

When it came, two nations were out of their seats in split seconds and kneeling beside the fallen briefcase. To the shock of everyone, it was Russia and America who had gone from ready to shoot or maim whatever came out of that thing, to suddenly worried about its safety.

The case was lifted to reveal Alaska and his dog. The ash blonde boy had tears streaming from his eyes as he held a hand up to his forehead, sobbing loudly.

Unsure of why the two strongest nations in the room were suddenly assisting this little boy, the countries watched in utter amazement while America moved the boys hands with gentle fingers and placed a tender kiss on the injured skin.

"It's okay, little buddy." America whispered.

The boy still cried, even when Russia placed his large hands around the boy and pulled him into a hug. "Shh, don't cry, Aleks," he cooed.

That certainly had everyone's attention. They did not even know that Russia could coo.

Qanix gave his master a lick for good measure, and finally the boy calmed down. His wide blue eyes looked from America to Russia and he smiled, his whole face lighting up at the sight of them.

"Better?" America asked, adjusting the hood of the boy's fur-lined coat and giving Alaska a bright grin. The boy nodded.

Russia kissed away the few remaining tears and fixed the scarf around his neck before patting his head.

"Are you okay, now?" he asked.

"Yes! Thank you, Papa! Thank you, Daddy!"

The first thought that ran across everyone's mind was,

_Oh, good lord, not again!_

The second one was,

_Wait, did he say Papa and Daddy?!_

00000

**Author's Note**

**Hi, automated-responder-who-is-not-a-pet-snake here. Author has passed out from cuteness overload. Again. Sorry.**


	3. Chapter 3

**I do not own Hetalia, people.**

00000

England stomped over to the trio still sitting on the floor and crossed his arms as he glared down at America, who was still poking the little boy on his belly to make him giggle. America was paying no attention to the annoyed Englishman behind him, since he was giving the little state before him all of his attention. Russia as well was petting the boy's soft, silky hair affectionately, a gesture that was causing the Baltic states to rub their eyes and check to make sure that this was the same Russia they knew. The red and white Malamute was seated beside the boy, its fluffy tail thumping rhythmically on the floor boards showing its obvious pleasure at seeing his master happy again.

After pushing away his American father's prodding hands with another giggle, the boy turned wide blue eyes on the Brit standing behind America. When he saw the displeased look on his face, the boy assumed the worst and stepped backwards into Russia, covering his face with his scarf as he did so. He did not like people looking down on him, and he was not to know that the glimmer of irritation in those emerald eyes was for America, not him.

"Daddy?" Alaska sniffed, his expression having gone from pleased to worried.

"Yeah, little guy?"

With a trembling hand, Alaska pointed up at England.

"Is that England?" he asked. He was not often in the Tech Room of the Manor of America, so though he knew about the infamous Brit, he had not seen what he looked like very often. Of course, there was no reason to ask how he recognized him. It was, of course, the eyebrows.

"Yep, that's England! Why don'tcha say hi?"

To England's surprise, America grabbed his hand and pulled him forward from where he had been standing behind him. England was not exactly happy to be closer to Russia, no matter how fatherly he was acting right now, but he obliged, kneeling down to be at level with the state.

America looked at England directly and said, "England this is Alaska, or Aleks I. Jones, the 49th state." The independent country looked down at the ash blonde boy. "Alaska, this is the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, or just England."

With a shy look above his scarf, Alaska gave a small wave in England's direction.

"Umm, hello, Alaska. A pleasure to meet you," the Englishman said.

Alaska stared at the man for a moment before removing his scarf from covering his mouth and nose to give England a bright smile. His face glowed with pleasure and England saw how much he resembled each man. The soft, silver hair and winter apparel was from Russia, but the warm smile, the piercing blue eyes that seemed to be searching his soul, and little cowlick that stood proudly apart from the other strands of platinum blonde silk showed how American he was.

That mixture of innocence and mystery was too much to be placed on a small boy, but it came out as the most adorable thing England had ever seen in his life. And he had seen a lot.

"Hi, England," the boy said at last, reaching out a small hand to place it on the Brit's knee. England had a sudden flashback to long ago when a little flaxen-haired boy had come up to him. He pushed away the memory and focused on the boy before him. "I'm Alaska and this is Qanix!"

Upon hearing his name, the puppy nudged his way into the group and looked around at all of the faces. He recognized America immediately, and Russia smelled okay, but England was new, so he tilted his head to the side and cocked one ear up in a questioning way.

"Hello, there," England said, holding out his hand for the dog to smell.

Qanix gave the offered hand a good sniff before deciding that this person was harmless and nuzzled into England's fingers.

"There's a good girl," England said with a smile.

"Qanix is a boy, sir," Alaska insisted.

England glanced up to apologize, but was shocked to see that the little state was glaring at him intensely, his dark blue eyes boring into his and that smile that directly mirrored Russia's plastered on his face. England felt chilled to the bone and decided that now was a good time to get the meeting back on track. Seeing how much like his Papa the child was, the Englishman decided to step out of the group.

"Yes, well, ahem, we do have a meeting to run. So America, if you can keep the child under control, he may stay."

America smiled and stood to his feet, taking one of Alaska's hands, while Russia stood and took the other. They walked back to their seats, Alaska traipsing between them with a delighted look on his face. Qanix padded behind his master, happy because Alaska was happy.

What had most people staring was the fact that, throughout this entire ordeal, America and Russia had yet to make eye contact with each other. It did not seem like they were avoiding it, they just were not doing it. England shook his head and made his was back to his chair, ignoring the trio, unlike someone else.

"So cuuuuuuuute~!"

Spain, who had recovered from his initial shock, was the one who had squealed when he saw obnoxious America and psychotic Russia leading a child between them that could only be described as the epitome of ultra adorableness (only after Romano, of course). What really blew his mind was the goofy but affectionate grin on America's face, and the small but tender smile that adorned Russia's lips. It sent a tingle down his spine and he could not stop himself from proclaiming how cute the little family looked.

France was staring, downright staring, at the adorable son that America had. And he thought North Carolina was charming. Alaska was so cute, he had to have some of his own French genes somewhere in there. However, when he voiced that thought, he received a smack from England.

Russia and America, who had not been sitting beside each other to begin with, moved Romano and Italy out of there seats so that they could sit on either side of Alaska. The little boy was lifted up by the arms so he could be placed on the tall chair, and he squealed with delight.

Hungary was gushing, whole heartedly gushing at everything the three did, her camera snapping away whenever she was certain that none of them were looking.

"And I thought Italy was cute as a kid! This little boy takes the cake!" she squeaked, shaking Austria's arm while she spoke. "Isn't he adorable, Roderich? Just plain adorable!"

The pianist only sighed and attempted to grab the camera away from the excited Hungarian, but he eventually gave up, sitting back down and pretending that he had not heard her say "Oh, I so want to take care of another kid!"

"Spain! Get on with it!" Germany shouted across the room to the dazed Spaniard.

While Spain struggled to get back track, Alaska sat in his chair and made himself cozy in his fur-lined coat. He glanced down at the floor below and saw that Qanix was curled up beneath his chair. With a satisfied sigh, Alaska began scanning the room and examining its occupants, recognizing a country here and there. On the whole, everyone noticed that this child of America's was significantly more calm than North Carolina had been, but that was most likely his Russian side showing.

Alska looked up at Russia, happy to see him after so long. With one arm, the boy leaned over and gripped on to the pale pink scarf that hung around the nation's neck and gave it a light tug. Violet eyes gazed down at the boy and Alaska realized how much he had missed this man. Perhaps Russia had not been the most doting of fathers so long ago, but he was a father nonetheless. He just had odd ways of displaying affection.

Alaska remembered the hug that he had sent to Russia via North Carolina and felt special when he recalled that the larger nation before him had sent one back. With glistening eyes, Alaska leaned towards Russia and gave him a hug, burying his face in the fabric of the tan trench coat. He could not explain why he loved this man so much. This was the person who had sold him away without so much as a goodbye all those years ago. But somehow, that separation had not strained the father and son bond as most would have thought it would. It only seemed to make it stronger. This was his father,and though he loved America for taking him in and treating him as his own son, he loved Russia just as much.

He felt a strong but gentle hand come to rest atop his head and he pulled his face out of Russia's coat to gaze up into the smiling face of his Papa. He returned the smile before just sitting still, leaning halfway out of his seat to keep a hold on Russia.

Suddenly, he felt a tug at his coat and realized that America was pulling lightly at the boy, a teasing grin on his face.

"Hey, don't leave me out," the American whispered jauntily, sky blue eyes dancing.

Alaska giggled and pulled away from Russia to latch himself onto America, his small hands messing with the folds in the dark brown leather jacket that the country of freedom always wore. America smelled like the summer sky and freshly mowed grass, a scent that always tickled the little state's nose and cause him to scrunch his face up cutely. When Alaska became the property of the United States, he had no idea how America would treat him, since so many people thought that the purchase of his lands was folly. But America had welcomed him into the family with open arms, caring nothing for who he used to be or belong to. He was now an American state, no matter who said otherwise. It had taken some time for Alaska to get used to the attention he received from the obnoxious blonde, but all turned out well after Canada informed him of several ways to handle him.

Yes, he knew who Canada was. He lived right beside the guy and often went to his house to let Qanix play with Kumajirou. Those two got along well. But back to America, Alaska looked up at his other father, seeing the twinkle of amusement in his eyes behind the glasses. This man had made him feel wanted and important, special in so many ways. America did that with all of the states, making certain that they all knew, even if they were different from each other in a variety of ways (Seriously, Washington walked around in freezing temperatures in a sweatshirt, hiking boots, and a pair of shorts. He never could understand that one.) they were all Americans and they were all his kids, special and unique in their own way.

Alaska reached up and adjusted America's glasses for him before stepping out of his chair and into the blonde nation's lap. With his height, Alaska could stand with his feet in between America's legs and rest his head on his dad's chest, looking up at him from there. He was so incredibly cute from that angle that America could not stop himself from placing a peck on the little state's button nose, which looked like a miniature version of Russia's nose.

Alaska giggled again and scrunched his eyes closed at the kiss. America began tickling the boy, much to Alaska's dismay. He wiggled in place, trying to get America to keep his hands off of his belly. But while he was doing that, Russia leaned across the space of Alaska's empty seat, and with a sly grin, poked the back of the boy's neck beneath his scarf and jacket hood. Much like his Russian father, Alaska's neck was extremely sensitive. The state let out a shriek of laughter, which would have caught the attention of everyone in the room...

...except everyone in the room was already staring at them, sighing and 'aww'ing at the little group.

England shook his head at the family, refusing to admit even to himself that they were adorable. They were not adorable whatsoever. Not at all. He glanced at them once more, and immediately looked away. They were not cute. None of them. There was no way in the world that he was going to apply that term to Russia and certainly not America.

"Daddy! Grandpa England looks funny," Alaska pointed out, seeing the scrunched up look on the Brit's face that was only made that much more humorous by his ridiculous eyebrows.

America started to laugh but stopped, looking at the state in his lap.

"What did you call him?"

"Grandpa England," was the simple, innocent reply.

There was a silence in the room that was only broken by the slight twitching of England's right eye as he stared at Alaska in irritation.

It started with America, who burst out into rambunctious hoots and howls at what his son had just said. France followed not long after, falling out of his chair and clinging to the back of the piece of furniture for dear life as he gasped in lung-fulls of air, trying to breathe and laugh at the same time, his body shaking from the effort. China covered his mouth with his sleeve and tried to smother his chuckles, but failed miserably. Sealand was having fit, an all out laughing fit, banging on the table with one fist and pointing at the offended former empire.

The whole room was in an uproar at the word of one child, said child sitting in his dad's lap, trying to figure out what in the world he had said that was so funny.

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**Author's Note**

**I am awake this time people, and I am seriously about to pass out again. I don't think I have ever written this much cuteness in one chapter. Seriously, do you see what Hetalia is doing to me? Its warping my brain. It seriously is. Warping it. Every time I read a Hetalia manga or watch an episode, I gain four brain cells for knowing a place called Sealand exists (Oh, good grief, autocorrect! Give the poor kid a break! He is a nation!) and then I lose five gazillion brain cells watching Prussia interrogate a toilet. Y'all know what I'm talking about, don't be pretending you don't know.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading, reviewing, and just, you know, being you.**

**Remember, you were unique before it was cool!**

**Until next time,**

**-Silver**


	4. Chapter 4

**I do not own Hetalia.**

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England's face had turned a very interesting shade of red, and his cheeks were so puffed out, some were afraid that he had stopped breathing. The look of absolute indignant offense was simply making the entire situation that much more hilarious. The offended nation opened his mouth to reprimand the room for getting out of hand when he felt someone come up behind him. He whirled around to see America standing behind him, still laughing at the title he had been given, but standing up straight nonetheless, holding little Alaska in his arms.

"Oh, cool off, Iggy! Alaska didn't mean to insult ya!" the American said in between laughs.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I fail to see how I can simply 'cool off' when the entire room decides to laugh at my calamity!" the angry Brit fussed back.

America waved off the man's words. "Oh, please, dude. That ain't no calamity! Besides, how can you be mad at this?" Here, America held the little child up in front of England's face.

Alaska turned on his most innocent look, widening his eyes and twisting his mouth to the side as he stared at the man he had somehow insulted. The pools of dark blue seemed to be sparkling with little stars of innocence, and England tried to force himself to look away from the puppy dog eyes.

"Sowwy, Engwand," the state said, purposely throwing in a bit of baby talk dialect for good measure. He made his lip quiver just the slightest and lowered his large round eyes to the floor. "I won't do it again." A sniff was added after that phrase.

England heard a growl behind him and he turned to see Hungary brandishing her frying pan, obviously not happy that he had made Alaska so upset. Quickly facing the boy once again, England opened his mouth in an attempt to calm the boy down, but Alaska was wiping his eyes and not looking at him. England tried to remain unaffected by this display, but his shaking figure showed that he was straining to do so.

"That's... that's okay, Alaska. Just next time—"

Before his sentence had been finished, the boy's ocean blue eyes had brightened at his words and his mouth broke into an America-sized grin.

"So I can caww you Grandpa Engwand?" he squealed.

"Wha? No, no, I meant—!"

Alaska did not let him finish, for he jumped out of America's arms and wrapped his own little arms around England's neck, hugging the nation tightly.

"Thank you, Grandpa Engwand!"

The former empire was frozen in place as the little boy hugged him tightly, wrapping his legs around his waist to stay latched onto him. His face got a slight dusting of pink at the affection he was being given. After a long sigh, England returned the hug, giving the boy a light squeeze.

"You are welcome, Aleks," he said in a resigned tone.

He completely missed the wink that Alaska sent to Russia and the nod of approval that was sent in return.

A sudden thump interrupted the touching moment, and everyone turned around to see that Spain had fallen to the floor, completely out cold, due to the cuteness overload.

England, still holding Alaska in his arms while Qanix sat obediently at his feet, let out a sigh.

"I suppose we shall break for lunch," he said.

While the nations milled about, gathering up their things, France bounded over to England.

"Come now, _Angleterre_! Let me hold that little cutie!" he insisted, reaching out to take Alaska out of his hands.

England jerked away from the Frenchman and gave him a dirty look.

"Not on your life, you bloody frog!" he fussed.

France put a hand over his heart and feigned hurt. "England, how could you? Technically, this is my grandchild, too, you know~!" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

England took an even bigger step back, glaring at France. "Not happening! Keep your filthy hands to yourself!"

"You cannot possibly try to keep this darling little boy away from me? You want to come to Francis, don't you,_ ma chere_?" France held out his arms and wiggled his fingers, gesturing for the boy to come to him.

Alaska looked at England, then France, and back to England. With a whimper he wrapped his arms even tighter around the Brit's neck and buried his face in his shoulder. England gave France a smug smile and stuck his tongue out, ever-so-maturely at his opponent.

"See? He knows a gentleman when he sees one!" England bragged.

France glared at England before rushing towards him an attempting to snatch the child away. Before that could happen, he felt something hook into the collar of his shirt and he was dragged back. At the same time, England was shoved against the wall with a heavy amount of force and Alaska was snatched from his arms. France turned around to see a smiling Russia gripping his metal pipe, the end of which was hooked on his collar. A dark purple aura was emanating around the tall Russian and France felt his knees weaken in fear. England looked up, recovering from the blow, and saw America with one hand on the Englishman's chest, keeping him pinned up against a wall, and the other arm holding Alaska. America was smiling as well, but it was his 'I've had enough of your garbage' smile, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he stared at his ex-guardian over his glasses. England gulped. When America looked at someone over his glasses, he was mad.

Neither of the two stronger countries said a word to England or France. They simply released them and walked away, taking Alaska with them, Qanix following at their heels.

France fell to the floor landing on his knees, his entire body having been drained of energy when he felt Russia's pipe on his neck. Now that the psychotic nation had moved away, he could drop to the ground and shiver freely. England put a hand up to his chest, that spot of skin sore from where America had shoved him against the wall. With slow, deep breaths, he let his body relax as he leaned up against the wall behind him.

"I blame you," he hissed to the Frenchman before him.

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The cool thing about hanging out with Spain during a World Meeting was that the guy knew how to serve lunch. He did not let the nations go out and get whatever, he served a buffet of amazing foods that made everybody hang around during break. Although the main dishes were Spanish meals, he had a good amount of side dishes from around the world for everyone to enjoy. Spain was just that hospitable.

As America and Russia strolled side by side down the halls, there was a silence between them that neither wanted to break. When it came to fighting, there was no one better at it than the two of them. But with Alaska around, they found them able to tolerate each other's presence for the little boy's sake. No one else understood how this worked, and frankly neither did they, but they didn't let it bother them. After all, the only thing they had to do during these times was ignore the worst part of the other's personality, which was easy since Alaska brought out the best in both of them.

To Russia, the boy was a golden ray of sunlight, piercing his cold heart with that warm smile of his, so much like his father's. To America, Alaska was special, a precious snowflake that represented the colder area of his land. The blue eyed boy was a reminder for both of them that there is a bit of good in everyone.

The 'not making eye contact' thing was done to boggle the minds of their peers.

And now, as they walked, America shot Russia a glance out of the corner of his eye. Blue met purple and a look of understanding was passed. They both looked away, Russia covering his smile with his scarf and America covering his face with the back of his hand. Alaska, who had found himself walking in between the two, gazed down at Qanix with a confused expression. _What's with them, _he mouthed. The dog just sent him a lazy expression as of to say _What would I know? I'm a dog._

In the dining hall of the building, America and Russia had found a small table where they placed Alaska in a chair on top of a stack of large dictionary-sized books. When America set a plate of fish before the boy, his eyes sparkled and he began devouring the meat. America laughed at the boy's appetite.

"True American, kid," he said, ruffling the boy's hair.

Russia opened his mouth to say something when America gave him a funny look.

"What?" Russia asked.

"Umm, dude, you're sitting on my brother."

Russia stood up and turned around, quite surprised to see a bedraggled looking Canada plastered to the chair he had been sitting in.

"Oh. How long have you been there, da?" he asked.

Canada slid out of the chair and on to the floor, letting out a dazed "Maple..." as he did so. America got up from his own seat and kneeled down in front of his brother.

"Hey, Matt. You all right?" he inquired, poking at the unmoving form of the Canadian. "How many burgers am I holding up?" When he got no response, he sent the polar bear seated on the floor beside Canada a look.

"I'll take him," the bear said, grabbing the almost invisible nation by the arms and dragging him away from the table.

America and Russia watched them go for a moment before shrugging and sitting back down at their table...

...only to find that both of their plates had been licked clean of any and all food. A look at Alaska showed a very pleased expression on the boy's face and a piece of lettuce sticking out of his mouth.

"Oh, come on, dude! Seriously?" America complained, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms.

Russia simply continued to stare at his plate, wondering where in the world his food had gone, and why it dared to disrespect him and leave like that. When he found it, it would receive a suitable punishment for disobeying indirect orders.

"Papa! I want to whale dance," Alaska said, tugging on Russia's arm.

"Right now?" America questioned in a worried tone. Alaska had this thing about Inuit tribal dances. When he wanted to do them, he would do them and no one would stop him. The main problem was, he usually liked dances after a meal, which was not the best time to do it, as of now.

All of America's children had their weird quirks, and Alaska's happened to be sticking with old traditions. Though he was not whaling at the moment, it was whaling season, which meant that it was time for the whale dance. And it was very difficult to change Alaska's mind. Of all of the state's, Alaska was one of the most stubborn when it came to schedule's and tradition. If Alaska could not dance, they would all be in deep trouble.

Still, even though he knew this, America decided to try and detour the boy.

"Hey, we still have some time before the meeting starts up again! Why don't we explore, instead?"

"Whale dance."

"I'll go get you more fish if you want me to, da?"

"Whale dance."

"Let's take Qanix for a walk!"

"Whale dance."

"Let's go pick some sunflowers."

"Whale dance."

"Dude, really? Where in the world are we going to find sunflowers?"

"Whale dance."

"I wasn't even talking to you that time!"

"Whale dance."

Alaska was sitting in his chair with his chubby little arms crossed over his chest, his eyes closed and his nose up in the air. He was not changing his mind for anything.

America ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Well, guess we're gonna have to find some way to let this kid whale dance."

Russia nodded, glancing around the room. "It will have to be in here, da."

"Yeah," the golden-haired nation agreed, fingering his napkin. "I don't think any of the other rooms are big enough. But how are we going to get people to clear a space?" he asked as he picked up his and Alaska's empty plates.

"I don't know," Russia responded, assisting the other nation in clearing the table. The two walked across the room and set their plates on the provided wash cart before turning around to examine the room.

"We could just wait until everyone leaves," America suggested.

"Alaska will not wait that long. He gets his impatience from you," was the response.

America rolled his eyes and punched the country beside him. If he had punched any other person with the same amount of strength, they would have gone flying across the room. But seeing how it was Russia, the man only rocked slightly to the left at the impact.

"We could knock everyone out and tie them to the walls and force them to watch," Russia said with a smile.

Anyone else would have had a violent negative reaction to such a suggestion, but America only shrugged and shook his head.

"Nah, nothing to tie 'em up with."

"We could just rip out the plumbing and use that."

America snapped his fingers and his face lit up. "No! I have a better idea!"

"You always do," Russia mumbled.

America got up in Russia's face and poked the big man in the chest. "Don't start," he hissed before walking away.

The scarfed man watched him go with a smug smile. He loved riling the American up.

00000

"All right, people! Prepare for some awesomeness!"

England turned around in surprise, seeing that America had moved aside several tables and had made a circle on the floor with plates.

"Oh, great. What now?" he moaned, wondering what in the world the idiot was planning.

The nation in question was standing up, looking at his handiwork of carefully arranged plates.

"Well, I don't have any tanned caribou skin stretched over a circular wooden frame, nor anything to beat it with. But..."

America ran over to the food table and saw two large bowls full of tortilla chips. He picked both of them up and weighed the two. After a moment's decision, he dumped the contents of both bowls on to the table and ran off with them, placing them upside down on the floor near the circle of plates.

"This should work in its place! I'll just use these wooden spoons for replacement drumsticks!"

Then he grabbed a cup and filled it with beans. Taking a smaller cup, he fit the two inside each other, locking the beans in between both cups. Running over to Russia, he handed the bigger nation the makeshift maraca. Russia gave him skeptical look.

America sent him a pouty, puppy dog face, putting one hand behind his back and holding the maraca out in front of Russia's face, wiggling the cups back and forth.

Russia gave in and snatched the maraca, huffing as he did so. America rewarded him with a wide, sunny grin before rushing back to his emptied chip bowls.

"Alaska!" he called.

The boy climbed out of the chair he had been sulking in and ran toward the sound of his name. Upon seeing the cleared out circle and both of his fathers holding makeshift instruments, the boy's face lit up and he clapped his hands. Pulling off his scarf and unzipping his coat, tossing both articles of clothing to the side, Alaska jumped into the wide circles of dinner plates.

If all eyes had not already been watching the little boy when America had cleared a part of the room, they were watching him now as America began tapping on the upside down bowls in a catchy, rhythmic beat. Russia tapped his foot for a moment before joining in the steady rhythm with a shake here and there on his maraca. Slowly but surely, both nations began a deep-throated hum that never seemed to begin. It was just there, changing tones every once in a while and adding an eerie note to the drum and maraca music.

Alaska let the beat get in his bead before he started moving. It was not a very spectacular dance. It only consisted of sporadic and angular movements of his arms and upper body, his legs moving significantly slower as it matched with the shake of the maraca. His torso's movement was aligned with America's beat on his bowl drums. His steps were specific and each shake of his body was accompanied with a nod of his head.

Simple was the tune, but catchy and addictive. It was not long before the nations watching had begun to clap along with America and Russia's music. Canada, who had recovered from being sat on, knew the music well, and joined Russia and America in with their deep humming. The other nations were unfamilliar with the tune, so they began stomping and clapping instead as the rhythm increased. Thus was the dance for the whaling season that was performed every year in Alaska, a tradition that Aleks embraced.

Qanix loved the dance as well, and though he could not really dance, he did step back and forth around Alaska as the boy made his careful steps. The red and white Malamute swayed from side to side, its tail wagging as his head bobbed with the beat.

Hungary stood beside Austria, thoroughly enjoying the music as she clapped her hands. She jogged the silent man beside her and nudged her head towards America.

"Come now, Austria. Admit this is fun!"

The pianist sighed, but found his foot tapping in time with America's drumming.

Italy had never heard such music, but he found himself wanting to hear more.

"Ah, Germany! This is fun! Isn't it?"

The bigger nation only nodded as he clapped, surprised and delighted by the simple music.

Alaska's was fully enveloped in the dance, his mind taking him back to the days when he would sit in the boat and watch his people whaling from larger ships. The smells, the sounds, the laughing on the night when they harvested the large sea mammals, he loved it all. This was his home.

Opening his eyes, Alaska looked directly at America and smiled. His father smiled back and winked, knowing what was meant. In a quick second, America stood up from where he had been sitting down at his instruments and jumped into the circle. Alaska took his dad's place and picked the beat back up.

America's movements were not as small as his son's, considering his taller body. They were much more defined and angular, a snap of his back and a pop of his wrists and he was totally into the dance.

England was shocked. His jaw dropped as he watched the boy who had taken years to properly learn the waltz, and he still did not have that down pat, sway in the circle, stepping around and over Qanix with ease and a strange amount of grace that had never before been seen in the nation. France walked over to England and rested an elbow on the Brit's shoulder.

"He has skill, no?" France asked. England only nodded dumbly, eyes locked on America's figure as he moved.

Spain was clapping and hopping as he watched, except he was not watching America. He was watching Alaska as the boy raised his arms high and brought the wooden spoons down on the bowls to the tune of their music. Suddenly, a maraca was shoved into his hands, interrupting his musings over the boy and he looked up to see Russia move to the circle and begin dancing, he and America mirroring each other as they danced, eyes closed and minds focused on their task. Realizing that he was expected to help with the beat, Spain began shaking the instrument to match Alaska's drumming.

Russia was lost in the dance and America was just plain having himself a good time while Qanix walked around and in between the two. Because of Russia's larger figure, his movements were not as snappy as they were smooth. He was much more subtle in his steps than the other two had been, but because of his bigger stature, it still matched.

Then Alaska pulled Belgium to the drums and joined his fathers in the dance, moving along side Qanix in between the two taller nations. Spain almost lost the beat as he spazzed over the utter adorableness of the dancing family as everyone in the room clapped and stomped, cheering the nations and their little state on.

Then America got a familiar look in his eyes and he shot a glance at Russia. Russia saw it and smiled, recognizing the challenge. With a wave of his hand to Canada, America signalled for the pancake lover to inform Belgium and Spain that they needed to steadily increase the beat. And they did so, tapping faster and shaking harder as America and Russia picked up speed. Alaska felt the competition brewing between both of his fathers and grinned down at Qanix. He changed his maneuvers and took on the female part of the whaling dance. Usual, the female stood still and danced with only her upper torso while the males moved around her. And with America and Russia challenging each other, they had begun to move in a circle around Alaska and Qanix.

Faster and faster the tune picked up, and the observing nations wondered which one of the two superpowers would miss a step and falter, or if either of them would. The stomping and clapping from the crowd increased and the volume of the humming chant had been picked up. The noise levels rose as did the excitement of the people. With a signal from Canada, Belgium and Spain ended the music with one final smack and shake and the music came to an end. Russia, America, and Alaska did their final move and the song was over, with Qanix barking out the last note.

A rousing cheer went up from the nations in the room at the glorious finale, and the performers faced their audience and took a bow.

It was a memorable afternoon, indeed, to say the least.

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**Author's Note**

**So, a strange chapter. Let me explain something. So there I was on Google, looking for motivation for the next chapter, when I see something that says 'Inuit Whaling Season Dance' and I click on it. Eventual I get to a YouTube video and see a few people doing this cool, simple tribal dance thing and I go OH, MY GOODNESS! I HAVE TOTALLY GOT TO PUT THIS IN MAH STORY BECAUSE I CAN SO SEE AMERICA, RUSSIA, AND ALASKA DOING THIS!**

**So while it still seems random, I just had to do it. Please like it! I hope you do, because I totally went out on a limb here! But I really had to do this! I don't see it as OOCness because Russia really cares about Alaska, so he would do all kinds of stuff for him. Please tell me you liked it!**

**And now my brother is behind me trying to dance Inuit style. *facepalm***

**Also, longest chapter ever! And did y'all see that thing I did with the whole sunshine and snowflake deal? Whattup, title reference! You missed it? Oh, okay. Never mind.**

**Remember, you were unique before it was cool!**

**Until next time,**

**-A Rather Worried Silver**


	5. Chapter 5

**I do not own Hetalia.**

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The meeting progressed as usual after the little tribal dance performance, meaning it did not progress at all. When everyone was once again seated at the oval table in the main hall, Spain picked back up again where he had abruptly cut off before lunch, talking a bit slower this time so as to make it easier for him to be understood. England was certain that he had seen the southern Italy brother have a word with the hosting country, informing him of his problem and the best possible way to fix it.

Naturally, Romano being Romano, it did not come out and across half as nice as anyone else would have brought it, as there were a good number of choice words and sharp insults that the smaller nation had thrown in to emphasize his point. However it had happened, Spain seemed to have comprehended what he was being told and was now addressing the group before him in a much more civil manner.

Rather unfortunately for the hardworking nation, his calmly laid out and detailed speech did not cause the people around him to pay any more attention to him than when he had been talking with the speed of a squirrel and a twitchy disposition to match. The nations still somehow managed to find their own arguments far more interesting and worth their time than the ideas and thoughts of a tomato-loving Spaniard. But he did not seem perturbed by the fact that no one was being attentive. He prattled on anyhow about his ways of improving the world, keeping the peace, and opening more Italian themed restaurants in Spain, in hopes of having his precious Romano visit more often.

No, the half-nation of Italy certainly did not have a pink color splash ever-so-briefly across his face at the mention of this, nor did he turn away from the man at the front of the room, since he definitely had not been paying attention to begin with.

Over on one side of the table, Alaska was becoming terribly intrigued by the wayward curl that stuck out on the right side of Romano's head, defying its brunette friends who all grew with gravity, falling down around the Italian's face, framing his handsome, tanned skin in dark brown locks. The little state's eyes remained on the curl that swayed to and fro as Romano moved his head. It was mesmerizing. From where Alaska sat in between America and Russia, Romano was one seat away from him, on the opposite side of the cheery blonde. Since said blonde was at the moment backing up England during yet another Britain versus France, Alaska climbed up onto the table and began crawling across it to get to Romano. The Italian did not even see him approach, as he was turned the other way to fuss at the northern brother over something. In fact, no one seemed to be paying attention to the child on the table, as Russia had turned his attention to Latvia, literally scaring the pants off of the poor guy in the process. Alaska liked exploring and he liked learning new things. He wanted to know why Romano's curl went one way, while Italy's went another. Reaching out, Alaska gave Romano's sleeve a tug.

"Ah! What do you want, kid?" was the exclamation as the Italian turned quickly to see who had pulled on his shirt.

"What's this?" Alaska asked, pointing to the curl, deep blue eyes giving off a look of simple curiosity.

"It's hair. Duh."

"Why is it doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"Going that way instead of the other."

Romano rolled his eyes and glared at the boy, annoyed by all of the questions.

"Because it woke up one day and decided to be different," he hissed in sarcasm.

However, the sarcasm was lost on poor Alaska. His eyes brightened considerably, due to the satisfaction he received from having his curiosity settled. "Oh!" he said happily. "Okay, thank you for telling me."

And with that, the boy crawled back to his seat and sat down, just as Russia turned and glanced in his direction. Upon seeing his son still seated in the provided chair, Russia returned to his task at hand.

Romano let his head fall down into the table. Dealing with children had never been his forté.

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When the meeting had at last come to an end for the day, America scooped his son up in his arms and lifted him high into the air.

"Come on, little buddy! Let's get to our room!"

"Okay," Alaska replied before glancing over at Russia. "Is Papa coming?"

"Huh?" the American exclaimed. "No! He's got his own room."

Alaska turned to face America with pleading eyes. "Can't he stay with us?"

America looked at the boy, then over to Russia, who was standing near the door, smiling that ridiculous smile of his. The nation knew that if he did not agree to let Russia hang out with them, Alaska was going to plead and beg with his eyes. And if he did still refuse him, the boy would remain mad at him for the remainder of the night. Deciding to be the Hero, America reluctantly agreed.

"All right, little buddy. He can hang with us."

Alaska clapped his hands gleefully and shouted his hurrays. America smiled, then shouted to the Russian across the room.

"Hey, big guy! Come crash at our room tonight!"

There was a collective silence at this invitation that had every nation still in the room staring at America. A few looked worried at what could happen when those two were left to their own devices, but some were just happy that Russia would be busy with America and Alaska and not bothering them.

Russia made his way over to the two and placed one hand on Alaska's head. "I assume the child wishes that?" he asked.

"You better believe he did," America confirmed. "I don't just go inviting commies over to my room randomly."

Russia grinned as he looked from the little boy in America's arms to America himself, staring deep into the nation's azure irises with muffled irritation. America glared right back, seeing the annoyance that floated behind violet eyes and watching it struggle to gain ground as he returned the grin. The two stood like that for a while as lightning sparked between them, their foreheads so close they were almost touching.

Someone cleared their throat and Russia and America turned to face England, who was waiting to lock the room once all of the occupants had left.

"If you two could continue this staring competition elsewhere..."

America and Russia made their way out of the room, Alaska somehow going from America's arms to Russia's as they walked. Qanix followed silently behind, ready to retire and take a nap, if he was allowed. For only being a year old, Qanix certainly had the act of an old dog.

"Bye, Grandpa Engwand," Alaska called, waving a hand at the large-eyebrowed country.

England blushed and returned the wave with a small flick of his hand.

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Upon reaching America's hotel room, Alaska insisted that they all play a game of Penguins, which was a board game that challenged you to set the most plastic penguins on to a fake, uneven iceberg without any falling over.

America set the boy down (the entire way from the meeting hall to the hotel, America and Russia had snatched the poor little state back and forth between them) and pulled out one of his suitcases, unzipping it to reveal a large amount of board games.

"You always bring board games when you travel?" Russia asked.

"Oh, sure! You never know when you might need one!" the American replied.

His companion said nothing as Alaska began separating the penguins and passing them out to each player. Qanix gave the pieces a sniff before deciding that they were not worth his time. With a yawn, the dog trotted over to a pile of clothes and began circling them before he flopped down for a rest. Meanwhile, Alaska had finished distributing the pieces and sat back on his ankles, pleased with his counting.

"You first, Papa," Alaska said, pointing to the Russian.

"Why me?"

"Because you are the oldest," America explained.

"Oh." Russia picked up one of his blue and white penguins and set it at the very top of the plastic ice burg. After being sure that it would not fall, he released it and sat back.

America squinted at the block of fake ice and measured a few distances with his fingers before setting a penguin down.

Alaska clapped his hands in excitement before placing his own playing piece on the iceberg.

Thus the game went on, Russia placing pieces randomly and daring them to defy him by giving way to gravity, America trying to be strategical in his moves, and Alaska just having the time of his life as he set penguin after penguin on the iceberg. It was not long before Alaska's penguin fell and he was excluded from the game. He sighed and scooted back to sit beside Qanix as the dog slept, watching his fathers get strangely involved into a rather simple game.

"Doggone it, Russia! If you put that piece right there, I will shoot you!" America growled.

"The rules say I may place my penguin wherever I wish."

"Oh, you are so cheating!"

"How am I cheating, da?"

"You're distracting me!"

"I think you are distracting yourself."

Alaska had forgotten how entertaining the two nations were when they were forced to partake in a very simple task together. The little boy was ruffling Qanix behind the ears, which was causing the dog to give a low, sleepy growl of pleasure. His thick tail flopped up and down every once in a while. Alaska sat forward, placing his chin in his hands as America set a penguin on the ice block. The piece of plastic rattled a bit and America bit his nails in worry. But soon the shaking ceased and the blonde smiled smugly up at Russia.

Said Russian, who had taken to becoming a good bit more strategic in where he placed his penguins, eyed the game board carefully before picking up a playing piece between thumb and forefinger and lifting it up ever so slowly. With carefully calculated movements, Russia brought the penguin to the ice burg, letting it float above the area he wanted to place it. Then with a squint he set it down. America was sitting with his legs crossed and his head tilted sideways as he watched Russia. The ash blonde man himself was seated with his knees to the side and one arm supporting him as they played. When the penguin touched the ice block, the entire construction began shaking. Russia glared at the pieces while America began pumping his fists, willing the pieces to all come tumbling down.

Then the shaking stopped and they all stayed upright, much to America's dismay. But just as Russia thought he was safe, all of the little plastic penguins went into dangerous territory and rebelled against their owner, tumbling down the little plastic lumpy block and rolling across the floor, directly against the large nations orders.

"Whoo!" America shouted, jumping to his feet. "Oh, yeah! I won, baby! Yeah! That's right! You can't touch this!" And thus the American subjected himself to an odd victory dance that Alaska expressively applauded.

Russia had a dangerous look in his eyes as he stared at the remains of the penguin game. His hand slid inside of his coat and reached for his familiar lead pipe. Before he could wreak havoc on the game pieces, Alaska tackled him in a hug.

"It's okay, Papa," the boy said. "You did a good job, too. Thank you for playing with me and Daddy."

All of his malicious intent to bring carnage to the board game before him vanished as Alaska smiled up at him. This boy would be the death of him. He returned the smile and ruffled his silver locks, causing a giggle to escape from the boy.

After playing with Alaska for a bit, Russia put the boy down and stood to his feet, facing the dancing American who had still not gotten over his victory.

"I shall be leaving, then," he said.

America paused in his dance and turned to face the Russian. "Oh, yeah. Whatever, dude. See ya."

Russia knelt down and gave Alaska a kiss on the forehead. "Good night, Aleks."

"Good night, Papa. Will you say good night to Qanix?"

Russia smiled and gave the dog a pat and a kiss. "Good night Qanix," he said. Then he stood to his feet and made his way to the door.

"Hey, where's my good night kiss?" America teased.

Russia sent him a smile. "Suffocate in your sleep, Fredka." And he was gone.

"Right back at ya, big guy!" America yelled at the closed door.

Alaska gave America a tug on his pant leg. "Daddy, do you hate Papa?" the boy asked.

America scratched his head and knelt down before the boy. "Well, not really." He wondered how he could explain their strange friendship, or enemyship, or whatever it was, to Alaska in a way the boy would understand. "It's sort of complicated, kind of."

"Oh," was all he said in response, clearly not understanding what his father was trying to say. But since he could see that America was at a loss of how to explain it, he let the matter drop. Standing on tiptoes, Alaska gave America a kiss on the cheek.

"There is a good night kiss from me," he told the blonde with a smile. America enveloped the little boy in a hug.

"Thanks, little buddy!" he told him.

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**Author's Note**

**So, I realized that in the first chapter, the dog's name was Qanik. But then I messed up and started calling him Qanix. Which one do y'all like better and I'll stick with it! Thanks! Enjoy and look forward to more cuteness in the next chapter! My brother and I played penguins when we were little and we still do! Awesomest game ever!**

**Read and review!**

**Remember, you were unique before it was cool!**

**Until next time,**

**-Silver**


	6. Chapter 6

**I do not own Hetalia.**

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America had never enjoyed waking up in the morning, especially when he had been in the middle of an amazing dream that involved a damsel in distress, him being the hero, and a hundred pounds of bacon. He could still smell the crispy sizzling slices of meat as the features of the dream still lingered in his mind. The pleasantness came to a halt when a high-pitched shrilling sound shot through his head and he was snapped completely out of his sleep. America sat up straight in the bed and gave his surroundings a once over, attempting to recall the room he had slept in last night. As familiarity settled over him, the shriek met his ears again. With an unsteady hand, America fumbled for his glasses that were sitting on the dresser beside him and perched them on his nose. With his vision restored, the blonde reached across the digital clock that read seven-thirty-one in red letters and grabbed his vibrating, screeching cell phone.

"Yo, hero speaking," he mumbled in his morning daze. He really needed some coffee.

"Dad, I have been trying to reach you for the past two days. Is there a reason you have not been answering your phone?"

Virginia's well cultured voice and hard tone drifted from the phone's speakers to America, going in one ear and out the other. The nation knew that Virginia would probably go on for a good while before he got down to the point of the call, so he decided to give the boy a bit of time before he actually responded to anything Virginia was fussing at him about.

To the complaints about his lack of responsibility and poor organization skills, America replied with the occasional agreement and vague confirmation of these facts while he got himself ready for the day. He was just pulling on his bomber jacket when Virginia at last ceased in his calm but irritated rant and asked the question he had originally called to ask.

"Do you have Alaska with you? Because you need to keep an eye on him."

America gave a laugh as he checked his hair in the mirror.

"Relax, dude," he said as he turned away from the mirror to glance back at the bed he had slept in. "Aleks is right–"

The bed was empty. Aside from the crumpled sheets and the large t-shirt that the young state had used the previous evening as a night gown, there was not a thing or person in the bed.

"Umm, gotta go, Ginny. Talk to you later."

Ignoring the protests of his oldest son, America hung up the phone and raced quickly out the door of his hotel room. He would have stayed and searched the room for the boy, but Qanix's empty bed showed that both the boy and his dog had taken their leave. If Alaska was still in the room, the red and white Alaskan Malamute would still be asleep in the corner on top of the pile of clothes he had claimed as his resting spot last night.

America ran down the hall, calling the boy's name as he went. He doubted that Alaska would get into too much trouble, since the boy usual liked to keep to himself, but his bad habit of hiding in strange places could get him on the wrong person's bad side, which would ultimately become America's problem if he did not find the boy first.

The blonde nation was just turning the corner when he ran directly into whoever was coming down the hall. With a cry of alarm from both people, they fell backwards and landed of the floor with a _thump_. America was the first to glance up to see he had run into Romano.

"Ow! Watch where you're going next time, you hamburger-addicted–"

"Hey, Ramona! Have you seen Alaska?" America interrupted.

"It's Romano! And, no, I haven't seen that little cretin of yours!" the Italian fussed in an indignant tone.

America stood to his feet and brushed his pants off before holding out a hand to assist Romano. The smaller nation ignored the offered hand and instead stood up on his own.

"Well, he must be around here somewhere."

Just as America said these words, the large potted plant that stood against the wall he had just come around began to shake. Upon hearing the rustling, America and Romano both glanced at the plant. From between the large fake leaves, two heads suddenly appeared, smiling gleefully up at the both of them, one belonging to a young boy, the other belonging to a dog.

"I'm right here, Dad," Alaska said with a smile.

America jumped six feet into the air, let out a shriek, and jumped on to Romano, spinning the nation around to place the older Italian brother in between himself and the plant.

"Let go of me!" Romano shouted, trying to wiggle his way out of America's grip. He refused to admit that he had been frightened as well and had nearly grabbed on to the freedom obsessed nation out of instinct.

America himself relaxed when he saw that it was only Alaska and Qanix in the plant.

"Don't scare me like that!" he scolded the child as he walked out from behind Romano.

Alaska put both hands behind his back and gave a little wiggle. "Sorry," he said. Qanix, sensing his master's apologetic attitude, dropped his tail and hung his head. The duo made one pathetic looking pair, and it was very hard to resist the urge to hug them to death.

Romano would never admit, even to himself, that he had that urge and decided to walk away. But as he turned to do so, he ran into yet another person, this one being ten times scarier than Alaska jumping out of a potted plant.

"Oh... uh, s-sorry, Russia. I... uh... I d-didn't see you th-there," he stuttered to the large nation.

Russia only grinned and looked past Romano to where America was helping Alaska re-wrap his scarf around his neck.

"Did I hear a scream just now?" he seemed to ask no one in particular.

"Yes," Alaska replied, pointing at the man kneeling down in front of him. "I scared Daddy."

Russia's smile widened. "Did you now? Well done."

"Hey!" America said, standing up and facing Russia. "Don't go saying it's okay for him to scare people! And I wasn't that scared anyway!"

If it was possible, Russia's grin widened even more so at the man's words.

"Not that scared, were you?" he said skeptically.

"That's right!" America poked the larger nation in the chest with his index finger. "Not. Scared."

"If you say so."

"I do!"

Alaska looked between his Dad and his Papa, wondering again as he had the previous night if they really hated each other. Maybe they were only tolerating the other's presence for his benefit. He could not figure it out and this bothered him. Qanix nudged his black nose into the boy's hand in a gesture of comfort. Alaska smiled at his dog and then called out to the two nations before him who looked as if they were ready to tear each other's throats out.

"Can I sit between you guys again in the Meeting?" he asked.

America and Russia brought their intense staring contest to a halt and looked down at the young ash blonde state. America rubbed the top of the boy's head affectionately.

"Sure can, little buddy!" he promised.

"As you wish, Aleks," Russia echoed.

Alaska clapped his hands joyfully, eager to get to the meeting room. He liked watching all of the nations and observing their behavior, especially since he was also spending time with his Dad and Papa.

"Let's go then!" America shouted, moving to run out of the hotel to the building that they had been in yesterday. Russia's strong hand on his arm caught him off guard and he was jerked to a stop. "Whoa! What's the idea, big guy?"

Russia sent him his unreadable smile and gave the excited American a once-over, letting his violet eyes trail over the blonde's frame.

"Fredka, you forgot something."

America squinted his eyes at the Russian before scratching his head in confusion. "Forgot what?" he inquired, mentally going over his morning checklist.

With one finger, Russia slowly pointed to the bottom half of America's body, where you could see that he still wore his grey pajama pants with the black and yellow Batman symbol pattern scattered on them.

Alaska and Romano covered their mouths to suppress their giggles and chuckles while a light blush formed on America's face.

"Yeah, I'll be right back," he told the group before racing back down the hall to his hotel room.

The three remaining personifications watched him go, quite amused by the sight of a flustered America. Romano, however, realizing that Russia's attention was no longer being held by the obnoxious blonde and could therefore have a greater chance of resting on him, decided to take this opportunity and slip away, leaving Russia with his son.

Alaska walked up to the large man and spread his arms out, signifying that he wished to be picked up. Russia complied, gripping the boy beneath his arms and lifting him up to rest on his hip while he kept his arms around Alaska's small frame.

"Did you sleep well, da?"

Alaska nodded. "Yes. Except Dad talks in his sleep sometimes."

Russia gave a soft, deep chuckle, tweaking the little boy's nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Da, I know."

Romano had turned the corner already, but was still close enough to hear Alaska telling Russia of his observation and the large country confirming his prior knowledge to this fact. His entire body froze and he suddenly thought of what that could mean. It was rather disturbing to know that Russia was aware of America's sleeping habits. Then he berated himself for such thoughts, reminded himself that America and Russia hated each other, and continued walking. He was going to forget he had ever heard a thing.

Unfortunately, there was one other person in the hallway adjacent to the one that Russia and Alaska stood in who heard the entire conversation, listening to the exchange with a growing hatred and inflating rage.

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"Now! Everyone knows about the water shortages in the–"

"Idea! Idea! I've got an idea!"

All eyes turned to America, the now-properly-clothed man who had interrupted Spain's presentation with an idea for a subject he had not even let Spain explain properly.

Spain, being the guy that he was, nodded for America to go ahead and speak.

"Everybody drink soda! That'll save tons of water!"

Silence filled the room as everyone gaped at the blonde's stupidity, a silence that said man interpreted incorrectly, as he usually did. With a proud grin, he placed his hands on his hips and let out a heart laugh.

"I knew you guys would love it!" he shouted to the dumbstruck nations, oblivious to their incredulous looks.

England had the overwhelming urge to smash his head very hard on a solid surface and forget that he ever raised a kid who would eventually turn out to be the seemingly stupidest country personification in the room right now. He could not figure out how that sweet little boy had become the obnoxious, oblivious, burger-addicted man he was now. The Englishman could not see where the boy could have picked up such a personality from, and the frustration in his mind became so great, he revisited the thoughts of knocking himself into oblivion if only to escape from the irritation and idiocy in the form of this western nation.

"America," he said evenly, not revealing how much he was trying to reign in his temper. "Sit down before I run you through with a broom stick."

America, confused as to why England would bother skewering him with a broom stick when a sword or knife was much easier to work with and more suited for the task, completely forgot about the idea he had just come up with and instead pondered on the Brit's choice of weaponry, wondering how much force it would take to actually shove such a blunt object through his body.

He spent the next twenty minutes of discussion on water shortage in the Middle East meditating on swords and broomsticks, though this did not seem to bother anybody else to a great degree. His silence was much appreciated by everyone.

But the American's musings were interrupted when Alaska stood up in his chair and asked politely for permission to speak. He heard his son clearly, but no one else around the table seemed very interested in what the child had to say. They could not hear his soft voice over their own, and Alaska's plea went unheeded.

That is, until a long, heavy pipe was brought down on to the table top rapidly, creating a steady rhythm of metal against wood that could not only be heard by the occupants of the room, but also could be felt by anyone who had their hands, arms, or other body parts resting on the table.

All eyes turned on Russia, the owner of the plumbing material that had been used as a noise maker to get everyone's attention. The man gave all of the people watching him his usual childish smile, ignoring the glare that Spain sent him. The pipe rapping on the table had placed several nice-sized dents in the wood and had also ripped the crisp white tablecloth that was spread atop the furniture.

Spain's eyes lost their malice when they rested on the child that Russia was now pointing to. Alaska stood in his chair, the only way he could stand and be seen by everyone, with his hands behind his back and a determined look on his face.

"Aleks has something to say and you will all listen, da?"

Even though no one would have been able to resist letting the child speak anyway, the underlying threat in Russia's words was as obvious to them all as the dents on the table.

Alaska cleared his throat, a gesture which Spain had to suppress a squeal at, and looked over the people seated around him. In his sweet, high-pitched, baby-like voice, he explained his reasonings for taking the floor.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have a proposal, if you are willing to listen," he said, addressing the room as a whole. His childish tone made his proper speech pattern adorable. "After much consideration on my part, I have deemed it necessary to include myself in this discussion, if I may. Perhaps I may be too young in the eyes of some of you, but I do have a good deal of knowledge that may assist you all. On the subject of water shortages, I have a solution if you will hear me out."

England had never wanted to burst into tears anymore than he did at that moment. In all his years of being alive, he had never thought that one day he would see a child of America's stand up and speak in such a proper and formal way. His sea green eyes were glistening as he watched the boy speak in that dignified manner he had always tried to impress upon America when he was but a young colony. How, he wondered, had Alaska learned to speak this way? He did not believe that he had learned it from Russia, since proper speaking never seemed to be a top priority of his. Then again, it was not America's favorite thing either.

England broke himself out of his thoughts and focused once more on Alaska, who had begun to speak again.

"My state is well known for its freshwater reservoirs, as is my neighbor, Canada. I am willing to deliver a good amount to the Middle East and can be certain that Canada would be willing to as well."

"Canada?" Spain asked.

Remembering that his father's brother tended to be invisible to a good many people in the room, meaning everybody in the room, Alaska made his way over to Matthew. And by that, it means he stepped up on to the table and walked across the top until he reached a seat that most people had assumed was empty. But when Alaska leaned down and gave Canada a shake, he became visible to all in the room. A collective gasp was heard as the nation clutching a polar bear gave everyone a shy wave.

"May I present Canada," Alaska said from where he stood, "a kind-hearted nation who shall help us out. Will you not, Canada?"

Canada nodded and buried his nose in the white fur of his fluffy friend's head. "I'll help," he agreed.

"Is this idea acceptable to you, Mr. Spain?" Alaska inquired of the one heading the meeting.

All Spain did was the one thing he had been doing steadily since the child had made his presence known: he fainted at the pure adorableness that was the personification of Alaska.

Ocean blue eyes turned to England as Alaska fiddled with the fur-lined hood of his coat. With a worried expression and a slight pout on his lips, he asked the former empire in a nervous tone,

"Did he not like it?"

"Oh, no, no, no! That's not it!" the Brit was quick to reassure him. "He just, umm, is a bit tired, is all."

Alaska grinned, matching his father's trademark smile and walked back to his seat. The pat on the head that he received from Russia was reward enough for him and he smiled up at his Papa, who returned it with a genuine one of his own. Alaska was quite pleased with himself and happy that he was able to help. He turned to see if his Dad had noticed what he had accomplished, and decided he should not have been surprised to see America still musing over broomsticks and swords. His Dad was one of a kind, he had to admit. One of a kind of weirdos.

And he still loved him.

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**Author's Note**

**Before you yell at me for being so late, let me tell you something: life can me a jerk to writers. Seriously. This would have been typed up days ago, except my loving older brother decided to volunteer me as a fill-in for a few people at his work who have been sick. So every evening after school I have been posing as a waitress at the family restaurant he works at.**

**I would complain, but I honestly LOVE the work! It's so much fun! A little rushed at times, but exciting! I wear my white collared shirt, my grey vest, black slacks and apron, dang do I look fabulous! Taking people's orders and serving food like a boss! I could do this all the time! But I'm only a temporary worker, so, you know. But that is the reason for this chapters lateness. I've probably lost all of my reviewers and fans haven't I? Well, sorry, but this stuff happens.**

**If you are still reading YOU ARE AWESOME AND THANK YOU! Updates are probably going to slow down to once a week, so see you then. I had better see you then because the cuteness is not over!**

**Remember, you were unique before it was cool!**

**Until next time,**

**-Silver**


	7. Chapter 7

**I do not own Hetalia.**

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America sat off by himself, slurping his soda and watching Alaska play with Italy. He was moping, if anybody asked him what he was doing. The usually cheerful nation was feeling pouty. After forgetting about why he was comparing swords to broomsticks, he remembered everyone staring at him in that peculiar way after he had informed them of his idea to save water by drinking soda. Since he did not know exactly what those looks had been for, he had asked Austria. The man seemed flustered, but did not really beat around the bush, telling America in no uncertain terms that everybody thought his idea was rotten.

The blonde nation was shocked when he heard this, for he had assumed that his suggestion had been a rather good one. He had stood there, open mouthed as the aristocrat walked away, appalled at the thought that everyone felt negative toward his soda diet idea. Didn't they know that soda was not made from water, as its ingredients were based off of corn syrup, liquid carbon dioxide stuff and other totally unhealthy non-water things that kind of tend to dehydrate you? They would have lots of water left over that they could give to those itty bitty little tiny countries that needed it. Okay, maybe everybody els who drank the soda would tend to shrivel up from lack of proper liquid nourishment... all right, maybe he hadn't completely thought that one through. It was an idea in the making.

But no, nobody thought about that, did they? Of course they didn't. Because when America speaks, the only things he says are stupid and dumb and violent and fattening. The blonde with the injured pride sat slumped in his seat and continued sipping at his waterless beverage, quite abusively, being certain to make as much noise as was physically possible for him to make with a straw. He did not know why he was being so rude and ignoring the table manners he had been taught as a colony (as much as England would like to think otherwise, he really did remember all of those crazy details that the Brit had hammered into his mind when he was younger, he just chose to diss these fine teachings in place of ease and comfort), perhaps he just felt like being contrary, since the whole world literally thought of him as nothing but a big kid.

So absorbed was he in his pity party, that the American failed to notice the disappearance of his son from where he had been messing around with Italy. A glance around the room located the Italian nation pulling and hanging on Germany's arm while the taller country attempted to hold a conversation with Austria. But Alaska was nowhere to be seen.

America stood to his feet and tossed his now empty cup into the trash can, sweeping the area for any sign of the ash blonde boy and his ever-present canine companion. When neither the young boy or the red and white dog came into view, America decided to take up the search outside of the room he was in. On his way toward the exit, he was joined by Russia, the large man having materialized out of nowhere and fallen in step with the slightly grumpy American.

"Aleks missing again, da?" he asked. "You really ought to keep a better eye on him, Amerika."

"Oh, hush up, I don't wanna hear that from you," America huffed, not in the mood to deal with Russia with his stupid cheerful voice and childish grin. He picked up his pace, putting himself several feet ahead of the taller man.

"I shall help you look then," Russia called from behind him. America gritted his teeth, unsure as to why the nation was bothering him so much right now. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to wallow in self pity about the unfairness of the world around him. He wanted to find Alaska, go back to the hotel room, order some burgers, play with the kid, sleep, and then go home the next day. He did not want to stay close to the other personifications any longer than he had to. Spain may be friendly, but he wanted to be back in America.

"Are you okay, Fredka?" came that deep, rolling accent.

America did not answer, but instead continued walking forward, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his eyes facing front. Perhaps if he ignored him for long enough, the stupid commie would leave him alone.

"If you are worried about Alaska, you shouldn't. I believe he is fine, da?"

Again, the younger country walking in front remained quiet.

Russia knew that it was odd for the freedom obsessed nation to be so silent, and his curiosity was piqued as he wondered what it was that had America's urge to speak supressed and if it was available for him to use whenever he wanted the blonde to shut up.

"Is something wrong, Fredka?"

"Yes! I am constantly being asked questions by an idiot!" America at last snapped.

"I was simply–"

"Well, just simply shut up!" America turned around to face the Russian, not realizing how close the man had been, and ended up bumping the tip of his nose against his. It was not intentional, but this distance at least allowed America to communicate through looks his annoyance. If looks could kill, Russia would have died ar least three times by now. But being this was Russia and not one of the other nations, he only smiled down at the angered man. This act made America want to slap that smile off if his face so bad, he had to clench his fists to keep from doing so.

"Daddy? Papa? Is something wrong?"

The soft voice from the side caused both men to turn and glance at the boy to see him standing near the wall, one hand up against it and the other hand up to his face as he chewed on his finger. His voice sounded concerned and America suddenly felt guilty, realizing with shame that his irritation with everyone else in the room had caused him to snap unnecessarily at Russia, who had not said a single word against him. Granted, the guy did not exactly say anything_ for_ him either, but still. The snapping had been uncalled for.

Qanix, sensing that Alaska was worried about the two nations, gave Russia and America a look that, had it been arranged on the face of a person, would have probably said something like _Y'all had better fix this before this boy starts crying. Because if he does..._ It was odd how the expression even expressed how dangerous the consequences of saddening Alaska would be by trailing off and leaving the threat unfinished.

"We are fine, Aleks," Russia said, taking a step away from America.

The blonde did the same, shrugging his shoulders and giving Alaska a sheepish grin.

The boy still seemed unconvinced, but he shrugged it off and ran up to America, pulling in the man's arm.

"Daddy, let's go exploring and sightseeing!" he insisted.

America smiled. "Sure! Why not, little buddy!" He ruffled the boy's hair and turned to Russia. "See ya, big guy!"

Alaska grabbed Russia's hand as well. "No, no! Papa's coming, too!"

"Papa is doing what?" America said, shocked.

"Coming with us! Let's all go!" Alaska cried, swing his fathers' arms and skipping forward. Spain was a fascinating place, and the boy wanted to see more of it. Not by himself, though, and it had been a while since the whole family of three had gone out together. He turned his dark blue eyes up to his Dad, noting the hesitation in the American's face and seeing the dislike for the situation in the way the man glared across the way at Russia, who was smiling back at him.

"Daddy..." Alaska pulled on America's arm once more. "Papa can come with us, right?"

America saw the puppy dog eyes coming and was not able to look away in time. And even if he had been able to look away, there was an actual puppy standing behind the boy, just daring him to give the kid a negative response. With a deep sigh, America gave his consent.

"Hooray!" Alaska cheered, thrilled at the prospect of exploring the intriguing city of Madrid, Spain with Russia and America. He released his father's hand so he could twirl around in the hallway to demonstrate his excitement. Qanix began wagging his tail and gave a America a look as if to say _Good choice_. Seriously, that dog was disturbing him with all of the human-like expressions he was making.

"It was not like I needed your permission to tag along, anyway," Russia said in a sly voice.

America grinned, sending the tall nation a dark look. "Yeah, well, you tend to leech on to people, so I figured you'd come whether I wanted you to or not."

A purple aura began forming behind the Russian, billowing around his tall form, and his eyes took on a dead, zoned-out look. "Perhaps I should paint the walls with your innards, Fredka," he told him in a cold, threatening tone.

The blonde only shrugged, still grinning at his rival. "Nah, red isn't a good color for this room."

Spain, who had been watching the two converse along with Prussia and France, made a strange sound that came out like a cross between a hiccup and a squeal, his face going pale.

"Oh, they are so gonna go at it!" Prussia declared, leaning around the corner to get a view of the quarreling duo and their charge.

"_Oui_, I believe you are correct, _mon ami_," France agreed from where he stood above the albino, leaning over him. "It should prove most entertaining if we can get safe seats for viewing. Spain, where is a spot close enough to see the action but far enough away to avoid any incoming projectiles?"

Spain, who was at the bottom of the stack, worried to death for what state his halls would be in if they did go at it, didn't answer.

Back to Russia and America, the two had begun to walk behind Alaska as the boy skipped happily towards the door, unaware of the dark and menacing glares his fathers were sending each other on their way out.

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The tree-lined streets of Madrid were scattered with couples, families, and loners travelling down its paved stone pathway. It was the twilight of evening that lit the way for these tourists and locals as they stepped inside cozy cafés for the late meal, or rested their legs on the park benches after a long day of walking. The warm orange glow that came from the west blanketed the city in a bronze tinge, making the evening feel warmer than it was. This warmth did not keep the young girls from snuggling close to their significant other or the children from pulling their favorite hoods up over their heads and giggling at their siblings.

Soft laughter and the buzz of a hundred voices floated down the streets and drifted into the ears of those walking down the sidewalks as the street lamps were just coming on. It was a beautiful evening to say the least, and everyone was enjoying the peacefulness.

All except for two foreigners who were perfecting the art of fussing at each other and keeping up the facade of getting along whenever their son was watching. Subtle scuffles had already taken place several times without the boy's knowledge, but Qanix was beginning to catch on. When the three had stopped inside of a souvenir shop, Alaska was having trouble choosing what to get: a snow globe with a cathedral inside of it, or a key chain with the Spanish flag hanging from the chain.

The simple decision turned into a competition as America and Russia automatically took opposing sides. Alaska did not even notice the two as they argued, as he was far too focused on which item was more fascinating. Qanix had been left outside, but he could see through the glass door and he let out a single shrill bark. Being that he did not bark very often, it got the two arguing personifications to clam up before Alaska saw them not getting along.

Russia knew how confused Alaska was over how he and America treated each other, and if the ash blonde man was honest with himself, he was confused with it himself. But he decided not to dwell on it.

As the three exited a small café after stopping for a drink, Russia and America walking behind Alaska as the boy skipped ahead, spinning around the light poles, the two older nations continued giving each other death glares that normally would have rattled anybody else to pieces, but only succeeded in annoying the daylights out of the other.

A woman with dark hair piled high in a bun on top of her head and a friendly twinkle in her dark brown eyes, slowed down as they passed and gave America a friendly smile.

_"Lo que una familia encantadora!"_ she said with a warm smile, waving to Alaska, who gave a shy wave back.

"_Gracias_!" America said, waving as well as the woman continued on her way.

He watched the woman go before turning back to watch where he was going and keep Alaska from tripping over anything or falling of of the benches he was climbing over. Feeling eyes on him from the side, America turned to face Russia, a mischievous glint in his azure pupils.

"Something on your mind, Russia?" he asked innocently knowing full well that the nation beside him did not understand Spanish.

"What did she say?" Russia asked.

"Why is that important?" America answered as he continued walking leisurely down the sidewalk, eyes back to the path in front of him.

Russia did not like it when people kept secrets from him. His eyes narrowed and he bored them into the side of America's face.

"Tell me what she said."

"Oh-ho! Commanding now, are we?" America said with a laugh, unfazed by the dangerous tone in the Russian's words. He turned around and began walking backwards, swinging the bag that held Alaska's souvenirs.

"America..." It was a warning. A warning that the obnoxious man before him paid no heed to.

"Yeeeeeees, Russia?" the western country responded, playfully skipping backwards, successfully avoiding stepping on Qanix as he did so.

"What. Did. She. Say."

America lifted a finger to his lips and winked at Russia. "I'll never teee-eeeel~!" he taunted in a sing-song voice.

Anger flashed in Russia's eyes and he suddenly had the overwhelming urge to crush the American's throat. "What–"

"Oh, chill out, big guy!" America said with a laugh, moving closer to the tall nation. "She just said we were a charming family!"

Russia raised an eyebrow, his violet eyes scrutinizing the laughing man before him. "And you said..?" he asked, stepping closer to America as well.

Sky blue eyes met his over clear lenses, and there was something in them that Russia could not decipher and was not sure if he wanted to.

"You really wanna know?" Another step closer.

"Da."

America reached up and adjusted the beige scarf that hung around the taller man's neck, neatening the front of the Russian's coat while he was at it. He lifted his eyes and met the deep purple of Russia's irises and gave a smile. A carnivorous smile. He stood taller and brought his face as close to Russia's as he could without actually touching the personification.

"I told her thank you," America whispered in a low drawl.

A shocked look flitted across Russia's face for a brief moment and America savoured the power he had over the man in this brief second. Then Russia's eyes narrowed and he glared hard at the shorter man. But it seemed the harder he glared, the wider America's smile became. Finally, he let his usual apathetic smile spread across his own face and he closed his eyes.

"You do know you are close enough for me to strangle, da?"

"Now there's the Russia I know," America said with a laugh, slapping the nation in the chest a few times. The he turned around and continued walking. "Come on Alaska! Let's—"

He stopped and looked around. The side walk was empty. Russia stepped up to stand beside him and surveyed the immediate area. The dog was missing as well.

And though they both knew that Alaska and Qanix were good at disappearing, there was a strange feeling that lingered in their gut.

A glance at each other confirmed their suspicions. Blue met purple and an understanding passed between them. Something was up, and they did not like it. What they could not convey in words, they communicated with looks. Neither of them believed that Alaska had just wandered off.

00000

**Author's Note**

**I am so tired right now. Between work and my Stand Up Comedian competition at school I have been working on, I am officially pooped and humored out. So see ya, folks. Enjoy the slight RusAme and all that. HAPPY THANKSGIVING, THOUGH! I HOPE YOUR FOOD WAS GOOD AND TOTALLY DELICIOUS! GIVE THANKS THAT WE LIVE IN THIS AWESOME COUNTRY CALLED AMERICA!**

**Remember, you were unique before it was cool!**

**Until next time,**

**-Silver**


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